In high school Shelley's Ozymandius taught me about this. "Look on my works ye might and despair, while round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away." And Shakespeare taught me the final stage mere oblivion; "Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything." I thought I was so cool knowing these things - the existentialists in college wiped the smile off my face - if I was going to get through life i needed to forget all of that. Now that I'm almost 80, I need a review session. Thanks for your articulate insights that only the most courageous can utter gracefully Maybe we boomers can repackage all we know about these complex issues, and bravely pass on the message that despite it all, life really does still make sense. This lifespan stuff is the next frontier and you are a brave scout reporting back from the front lines.
“The chamomile of costume drama”? Don’t tell that to the BBC.
A simple name change from “independent” to “isolated living” and an entire industry would fall. All sorts of people would have to be living together. OMG. 😳
The museum-exhibit bit does double duty: it's the funniest thing in the piece and the most quietly devastating. "Please do not upset our recent acquisition" is what institutional language does to a person, and you let the joke carry the indictment without ever stopping to point at it.
Before my parents moved to their CCRC, they visited probably 50 of them, with spreadsheet in hand. Quality of food was one of the main entries in the spreadsheet. The place they chose had a wonderful chef, there was a varied salad bar, they'd cook your favorite recipe for you if it was written down, etc. However. Things change. The chef left. The place was sold and is now in financial straits. I hate these places, but what choice do people have?
Ah, Judith. I wouldn't mind "being taken care of ..." some day. Not soon, I hope! But, I sure as hell couldn't put up with dry, bland food, and small portions to boot! As it is, I always carry hot pepper flakes with me in my purse to help spice up occasionally what is supposed to be decent restaurant food.
You wrote about the place you live: "Nothing is overdone, except the occasional piece of salmon left a bit too long on the grill." I was wondering if at least you PIPs in independent living have your own refrigerators in your private spaces and the ability to eat whatever you want?
I wouldn't mind visiting you and the PIPs some day, that is if you are in the Philadelphia metro area where I travel twice a year to see my brother in King of Prussia--and I don't have to actually eat the food in the dining room :-)
In high school Shelley's Ozymandius taught me about this. "Look on my works ye might and despair, while round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away." And Shakespeare taught me the final stage mere oblivion; "Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything." I thought I was so cool knowing these things - the existentialists in college wiped the smile off my face - if I was going to get through life i needed to forget all of that. Now that I'm almost 80, I need a review session. Thanks for your articulate insights that only the most courageous can utter gracefully Maybe we boomers can repackage all we know about these complex issues, and bravely pass on the message that despite it all, life really does still make sense. This lifespan stuff is the next frontier and you are a brave scout reporting back from the front lines.
What topic do the former physics professor and the former philosophy professor talk about? How about gravity? Or, gravitas?
“The chamomile of costume drama”? Don’t tell that to the BBC.
A simple name change from “independent” to “isolated living” and an entire industry would fall. All sorts of people would have to be living together. OMG. 😳
The museum-exhibit bit does double duty: it's the funniest thing in the piece and the most quietly devastating. "Please do not upset our recent acquisition" is what institutional language does to a person, and you let the joke carry the indictment without ever stopping to point at it.
Always grateful for your words. Thank you.
Before my parents moved to their CCRC, they visited probably 50 of them, with spreadsheet in hand. Quality of food was one of the main entries in the spreadsheet. The place they chose had a wonderful chef, there was a varied salad bar, they'd cook your favorite recipe for you if it was written down, etc. However. Things change. The chef left. The place was sold and is now in financial straits. I hate these places, but what choice do people have?
Ah, Judith. I wouldn't mind "being taken care of ..." some day. Not soon, I hope! But, I sure as hell couldn't put up with dry, bland food, and small portions to boot! As it is, I always carry hot pepper flakes with me in my purse to help spice up occasionally what is supposed to be decent restaurant food.
You wrote about the place you live: "Nothing is overdone, except the occasional piece of salmon left a bit too long on the grill." I was wondering if at least you PIPs in independent living have your own refrigerators in your private spaces and the ability to eat whatever you want?
I wouldn't mind visiting you and the PIPs some day, that is if you are in the Philadelphia metro area where I travel twice a year to see my brother in King of Prussia--and I don't have to actually eat the food in the dining room :-)
We call them FIPs. Formerly important people.
Where do you find the artwork that accompanies your missives? I love them & screenshot them 🥰